


Playing Big Brother

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Dolls is the Best Big Brother, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Um, Wyn?  Can you help?” she asks with a grimace, gesturing at her hair and then holding up her arm as an explanation.  Hand mostly immobile in its cast (a leftover reminder of an exorcism that had complications), it’s a wonder she even managed to get as far as she had.</p>
<p>“Oh, you must be very desperate,” Wynonna answers with a laugh.  “I can try?”</p>
<p>“I can do it,” Dolls pipes, sensing her hesitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Big Brother

In an odd moment of quiet, Dolls lets himself lounge at the homestead.  Wynonna’s got her feet up on the coffee table, head resting on his shoulder, reading some godawful romance novel with a half-naked pirate on the cover.  He thinks it’s a pirate.  He honestly didn’t study it that hard, just accepts the fact that he can watch whatever he wants.  She looks up once to see the game, snorts, and goes back to her book.  He doesn’t notice Waverly approach until she’s right next to the couch, hair messy.

“Um, Wyn?  Can you help?” she asks with a grimace, gesturing at her hair and then holding up her arm as an explanation.  Hand mostly immobile in its cast (a leftover reminder of an exorcism that had complications), it’s a wonder she even managed to get as far as she had.

“Oh, you must be very desperate,” Wynonna answers with a laugh.  “I can try?”

“I can do it,” Dolls pipes, sensing her hesitation.

Both sisters stare at him.

Offended, he shuffles his shoulders.  “What?”

“Nothing!” they sing in unison.

After a beat, Waverly nods in the direction of the bathroom and mutters, “Actually, if you don’t mind…”

“Lead the way,” he murmurs, self-conscious as he stands and follows Waverly.  “How do you want it?”

“Just better than what I’d done,” she shrugs, catching his eye in the mirror.  He bobs his head once and starts unbraiding her hair.  He makes quick work of the tangles before separating it out, motions practiced in spite of the years it’s been since he’d actually _done_ this.  When he finishes, she’s got one simple, even plait down the middle.  “Oh, yeah,” she smiles, turning her head to look at his work, “That’s _much_ better.  Thanks!”

He finds himself smiling back.  “Did I just volunteer myself to be your hairdresser until you’re outta that cast?” he teases lightly.

She laughs, and, task completed, he goes back into the living room.  Dropping back into his spot, he tries to ignore the way Wynonna’s staring at him, head cocked to one side.  By the time he finally does look over, she’s back to reading.  Or pretending to read.  He doesn’t see her eyes move for a long time.  Eventually, she leans back into his side.

\--

He gets the text while he’s still at the station, phone chirping in his pocket while he and Wynonna try to make sense of the most recent freaky crime scene.  Thoughtlessly, he pulls it out of his pocket and it’s a picture from Waverly:  Two dresses, one soft purple and the other black, hung up side-by-side.  There’s about a dozen question marks that follow.  He’s perplexed for all of a minute.

_Occasion?_ he shoots back.

The response is quick, _Date night.  Dinner._

_Purple_ , he answers decidedly.

The next time his phone goes off, it’s just a thank you with a series of happy emojis.  He huffs a soft laugh.  Wynonna’s been watching him, he realizes.  When he turns to her, she’s got one eyebrow arched.  “Top secret?” she asks uncertainly.

“Uh, your sister has a date, wanted a dress opinion, I guess?” he replies.

“Uh-huh,” she grunts, hand on her hip as she nods, but she looks distracted.  “Why would she text you?”

“Because I have a damn good eye,” he says seriously.

That gets him a quick eye roll.

\--

If anyone were to ask him, Dolls wouldn’t be able to tell them how he ended up drinking coffee with Waverly, completely casual and with no more pressing matters at hand than whether or not she wanted a refill.  It’s kind of comfortably silent, the kind of comfortable silence that doesn’t really come along too often, so he lets it be.  There’s work to be done—there’s always work to be done—he knows that, but he’s also very aware that Waverly would likely run herself ragged if they didn’t enforce break-taking.  He knows she wants so badly, somehow more than her sister, to break this curse and to play an integral part in it.

So, coffee.

Eventually, the quiet gives way to small talk, which gives way to talk about Nicole, which in turn makes her cheeks go red and her smile go wide.  It takes very little convincing to get her to talk about their last date.  He’s in the middle of teasing her very gently about it when the door bangs open.  The other Earp stumbles in, laughing, but she sobers as soon as she sees them.

“I wasn’t invited to the party?” she pouts, but there’s something almost serious in her face.

“No party,” he explains, “Just a break.”

Wynonna’s eyes dart between them, brow furrowed.  “Sure.”

\--

Yoga was actually Waverly’s idea, as soon as she got her cast (well-decorated by Nicole and Wynonna in varying degrees of appropriateness) off.  It’s actually a really nice change of pace, and since Wynonna is perpetually late—he’s learned to accept it—they usually have plenty of time early in the mornings.  So, a couple times a week, they show up to the station a little earlier than usual.

Sometimes they talk.  Usually they don’t.

Mostly, it’s quiet, their breathing, and the fluid movement of their bodies.  It’s _calming_ and peaceful and he finds himself looking forward to those mornings because precious little in their lives is like that.  And he realizes he cherishes the ease of being around Waverly. 

This morning, neither of them hears the door open.  They don’t hear _anything_ until Nicole clears her throat.  Next to him, Waverly rolls to her bare feet, already grinning sheepishly.  “So, _this_ is where you run off too so early,” Nicole laughs.

“Caught me?”

Eyes absolutely _brimming_ with affection, the cop dips her head before waving a file.  “Just dropping this off, some weird sightings last night,” she explains, skirting the big mat on the floor to set it gently on the table.  She tosses them another look before leaving, shutting the door softly behind herself.

\--

It all comes to a head in the weirdest way.  He and Waverly are talking idly about some film festival going on in the next town over when Wynonna makes some noise, not quite derisive, in the back of her throat.  Her gaze isn’t on either of them, but there’s something written across her face that makes him pause.  Her sister must be on the same page because she stands and pipes cheerfully, “Do you guys want Chinese?”

And she leaves him there with an irate Wynonna.

There’s a beat of silence while he _waits_ for her to say something, but when she doesn’t he steeples his fingers and prompts, “So, what is it?”

When she opens her mouth, she’s got the very distinct look of a person who’s about to lie, but she closes it quickly and scowls.  Then, jaw ticking, she blurts, “I’m—you two—she keeps coming to you for sister stuff!”  As soon as the words tumble out, she looks embarrassed.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, incredulous even as the realization hits him.  He can see her grinding her teeth.

Glowering, she stares at the floor and mumbles, “You braid her hair, and watch those ridiculous movies, and do _yoga_ , and she asks you for _dress advice_ , and I—”

She stops, teeth clicking together.

“You—Wynonna, you can’t braid,” he reminds her gently.  “You _hate_ those ridiculous movies.”  He walks around the table and sits next to her, turns her chair until she’s facing him.  He tilts his head until their eyes meet.  “She’s not replacing you.  And I’m not trying to replace you!”

Sighing, she winces.  “So, what you’re saying is I’m being dumb?”

“No,” he says firmly, bringing one hand up to her cheek.  “I’m saying that she loves you and that you have nothing to worry about.”

“You know what I _hate?”_ she murmurs, leaning forward until their foreheads are pressed together.  “Your pep talks.  You’re gonna hafta stop.”

“I’ll get right on that.”  He presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers, “You should talk to your sister.”

\--

Neither Wynonna nor Waverly tell him about the conversation and he doesn’t ask.  Wynonna stops looking so distant when he and Waverly hang out, they still do yoga in the mornings, he _sometimes_ still braids her hair when she asks.  (Sometimes, even more rarely, Wynonna asks, too, laughing when she sees the end result and kissing him dizzy.)  Wynonna lets herself be dragged to film festivals with them, and he lets himself be dragged shopping.  Both sisters take turns teasing him about being the big brother Waverly always wanted.

Occasionally, Wynonna complains about them spending too much time together, but when she does it’s accompanied by a soft, fond grin.

**Author's Note:**

> I was without internet for _days_ so I had time to write which is why y'all got 2 fics in one day. Shoutout to a good buddy for prompting this when I was feeling kinda blocked. Thanks as always for reading and feel free to swing by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I'm happy to take on prompts or listen to screaming, share headcanons... anything.


End file.
